Thick and Thin
by LadyWallace
Summary: Dean gets shot on a hunt out in the middle of nowhere. Sam is still on the trail and Cas is human. But even if Cas can't heal Dean he's still going to do everything he can to help—even if that means performing field surgery on his friend. Dean!whump, set S9 No slash.


**Really the only reason for writing this one shot was because I have been whumping Sam and Cas a lot lately and I decided it was Dean's turn LOL :P This is essentially the same Season 9 AU with human Cas as my A Thing or Two About Being Human series but it was too dark for the series itself so I decided to post it as it's own one shot. Enjoy!**

 **And don't forget that Friday I post the first chapter of my new S7 AU "Katabasis" :)**

Thick and Thin

A Supernatural Fanfic

Castiel glanced over his shoulder as they stumbled through the woods, trying to make sure they weren't being followed, while at the same time trying to keep Dean on his feet and moving forward. When Castiel was still an angel, Dean's greater bulk hadn't been a factor, but now…well, Cas was struggling trying to keep him up especially since they were currently running for their lives.

"Think we lost 'em?" Dean gasped, his own head hanging between his shoulders as he concentrated on not falling.

"No," Castiel replied honestly. "But I think they retreated after you shot the alpha in the head."

"Not soon enough," Dean grunted, hissing as the uneven terrain jarred his wound. "Who knew werewolves would use freaking guns!"

Castiel glanced down worriedly at the hand Dean was pressing to his stomach in a vain attempt to staunch the bleeding. His whole left side was soaked in blood now, and Cas knew that losing much more than he already had wouldn't be good.

They'd just been on a simple hunt; it wasn't _supposed_ to be hard. It had looked like werewolves and it was—a whole pack of them living off the land near a popular hiking trail just outside of Portland, and picking off any hikers they decided looked tasty enough whenever they needed a snack.

Unfortunately, they had underestimated how many there were in the pack, and how organized they had been. Dean and Cas had split up from Sam and a local ranger who had been helping them from the start and was now in on the whole werewolf thing. This had been the first mistake, because all the werewolves had been in their cabin hideout when Castiel and Dean had found it, and they hadn't been happy to see intruders, especially hunters.

Somehow though, Castiel and Dean had still gotten out of there alive, taking down several of the wolves in the process. Of course, they hadn't been quick enough to stop the one, the alpha, from pulling a gun and shooting Dean with it.

Dean stumbled on some fallen branches, biting back a yelp of pain, and Castiel nearly lost the grip he had on him.

"We need to find someplace to rest," Castiel said grimly.

"Where?" Dean demanded.

Castiel scanned the area frantically as they went along, and then amazingly, they stumbled across a small cabin.

"There," Cas breathed a sigh of relief.

"They probably know about all the cabins," Dean protested, but half-heartedly. His voice was strained and Cas could tell how much pain he was in. Not to mention the fact he'd lost a lot of blood.

"But at least this will give us a place to make a stand. Hopefully, with their alpha dead, they will take a while to regroup. We can try calling Sam." Cas was hoping the younger Winchester wasn't far. Dean was badly hurt, and without his healing abilities, Cas wasn't sure if he would be able to sufficiently help his friend.

Dean didn't say anything else, just let Castiel haul him toward the cabin. Castiel kicked open the door, glad to find it wasn't locked, and held his angel blade at the ready for anything that might be lurking inside.

The place looked like it hadn't been used for years, judging from the thick layer of dust and the obvious signs of animals having made it home during the winter months. But perhaps that meant that the werewolves didn't know about this particular cabin.

"Well this is cozy," Dean muttered, leaning even more heavily on Cas now that they had found shelter, the urgency gone for the moment. Castiel could tell he was about to drop and spotted a cot tucked into one corner.

"Come on," he said and nudged Dean the last few feet to the cot and lowered him down as carefully as possible.

Dean yelped as he fell onto the cot, collapsing on his side and drawing his knees up. Castiel kept a hand on his shoulder, squeezing in reassurance.

"Let me see," he urged, wrapping his fingers insistently around Dean's wrist to pull his hand away from the wound.

Dean gritted his teeth, but uncurled a little and allowed Cas to see the wound, lifting his shirt with a shaking hand.

Blood welled from the bullet wound, more trickling out with every one of Dean's labored breaths. Castiel swallowed hard, swiftly pressing Dean's hand back against the wound.

"Just hold on," he said as calmly as possible, squeezing Dean's wrist again and trying to offer some modicum of reassurance. "I'm going to call Sam."

Dean grunted as Cas dug in his pocket for his phone. However when he opened it he saw there was no signal and even as he got up to walk around, even stepping outside the cabin, the bars were completely gone on his phone.

"I can't get through, there's no bars," he said helplessly as he came back into the cabin and shoved the phone back in his pocket.

"Guess he'll just have to take care of himself," Dean said, but Cas could detect the worry in his voice. He knew Sam could, but so could Dean and look what had happened to him.

"I'm more worried about you at the moment," Cas told him honestly, taking in Dean's pale features.

"Sam doesn't know how many there are," Dean grunted, trying to prop himself up on an elbow, but only managing to cause himself more pain.

"He has Ranger Stevens with him," Castiel said reassuringly as he hurried to press Dean back against the cot. "And we did take out several werewolves, including the alpha."

"Yeah, I guess we've got bigger problems, don't we?" Dean grunted as he tried to shift on the small cot, and collapsed heavily onto his back, hand still pressed to his stomach. "Gotta get this hole closed up before I bleed to death."

Castiel bit his lip. "Yes." He didn't want to admit it, but he was worried about doing this. He'd never had to do actual first aid or field surgery before. He had always been able to heal his friends with just a touch, but now…what if he did something to hurt Dean worse? What if he did something wrong? He could lose Dean out here in the middle of the woods, and it would all be his fault.

"Cas, you're gonna have to do it," Dean gritted out, eyes leveled on the ex-angel, watching his internal struggle. "Unless you got a mirror. But I don't really wanna have to do this myself."

Castiel swallowed hard, sickened at the thought of Dean performing self-surgery while he just stood by, and nodded jerkily. "I know. But… you're going to have to tell me what to do."

"Okay, well, get the kit out first," Dean told him, nodding to the bag Cas had dropped on their way in. "Small metal box."

Castiel fished it out and opened it up, seeing various medical supplies within.

"You ever done anything like this before?" Dean asked half-heartedly. He seemed like he was trying to be supportive, but Castiel could tell he wasn't thrilled with the development, probably wishing Sam was there. Cas would have rather had Sam here taking care of his brother too.

"I have watched you and Sam on occasion," Castiel replied, then shrugged. "I've also watched the show _M*A*S*H*._ "

Dean snorted. "Oh, well, good. Looks like I'm in your hands, then, Hawkeye."

"Okay, what do I do first?" Cas asked.

Dean glanced at the kit. "Take out the forceps. Those are the ones that look like tweezers."

Castiel found the tool and pulled it out. "This?"

"Yeah," Dean said tiredly, eyes half open as he fought to instruct Castiel through the haze of pain. "Now you're gonna have to sterilize it. You can use a lighter, or that flask of whisky I have in the bag."

"Don't you want the whisky to drink?" Cas asked.

Dean snorted. "Not gonna get drunk enough for this on that little. Best save it to clean the wound after."

Cas nodded and grabbed a lighter from his pocket, running the flame over the pair of forceps then when that was finished, he turned back to Dean.

"Okay, let's get this over with," Castiel said.

Dean reluctantly lifted his hand from the wound again and Castiel helped peel his shirt up and out of the way. Dean's skin was smeared with blood, but Cas could easily see the wound itself, positioned a couple inches to the left of his navel, still bubbling blood. Cas cringed, and grabbed some gauze from the med kit to clean the area so he could see what he was doing.

Dean flinched at even that and Castiel could feel the muscles in his stomach spasm underneath his hand.

"After you clean it," Dean gritted out. "Just put the forceps in the bullet wound and…gah…you're gonna have to feel around for it. You gotta listen for a clink of metal. Something that doesn't belong."

Cas nodded, swabbing the blood away, not wanting to admit he was putting this off as long as possible. He took a deep breath and pressed around the wound with two fingers to open it.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Dean cried, wincing. "Give me my belt first."

Cas frowned, but started to undo Dean's belt and tugged it out of the belt loops. Dean grabbed it and folded it in half. "Okay, go." He said before clamping the leather between his teeth.

Castiel took a deep breath, and pressed his fingers to Dean's stomach, opening the wound as much as possible. Dean's muscles tensed under his hand, but Cas tried to ignore that, and simply slid the forceps into the wound after the bullet.

Dean's whole body tensed now and a strangled cry escaped past the belt in his teeth. His hands latched onto the sides of the cot, and he clenched it so hard, the old metal frame creaked.

Castiel probed the wound as efficiently as possible, but could feel nothing like a bullet in there. He pressed a little deeper and one of Dean's knees came up, as he screamed past his gag. Cas pushed his leg back down, hoping Dean wouldn't hurt himself, but this wasn't working.

He shook his head. "Dean, I can't find it," he said helplessly.

Dean moaned in the back of his throat, and reached up to take the belt from his mouth. "Dammit, Cas," he growled.

"It may have moved while we had to run," Cas told him regrettably.

"Son of a bitch," Dean breathed. "Just…take those out of me."

Cas hurriedly removed the forceps and pressed a swatch of gauze over the wound, pressing firmly to try and staunch the new bleeding he had started.

"Dean, I'm sorry…" he started. "What can I do?"

Dean took several deep breaths before he replied. "If you can't get to it…you may have to…open the wound more," Dean said between pants. "Scalpel's in there."

Cas blanched at the thought of cutting Dean open more, but he knew the dangers of leaving the bullet in him, especially if they had to make a run for it again. "Okay, hold on."

He fished around for the scalpel, while he listened to Dean's ragged breaths. He found it and sterilized that too before turning back to Dean and removing the gauze he had tucked over his wound.

"Okay, are you ready?" he asked.

"No, but do it anyway," Dean told him, shoving the belt between his teeth again, and gripping the sides of the cot like before.

Castiel took a deep, steadying breath, trying to ignore Dean's blood that was already coating his hands, and carefully inserted the small blade into the bullet wound, cutting a clean slit across it. Dean groaned past the gag, his hands clenched tighter, but he somehow managed to stay still.

Cas let out a breath of relief as he finished that, setting the scalpel aside to pick up the forceps again. "Okay, I'm…going back in," he said helplessly.

Dean grunted in affirmation, and Cas pulled the wound open with his fingers again before putting the forceps back in.

Dean's head rolled back on the cot and his whole body tensed. Castiel could tell he was doing everything he could not to fight Cas, but as he was forced to go deeper with the forceps, Dean couldn't keep still anymore, his body reacting instinctively to the pain. His dug his heels into the cot, knees wanting to come up, but Cas tried to stop him. Dean's tensing was only making it harder for him to search for the bullet.

"Dean, stop," he said, pushing his legs down before simply standing to straddle the cot, sitting on Dean's knees so he couldn't move the lower half of his body. It gave him a better vantage point anyway, even though the pooling blood was making it hard enough for him to see.

He cursed and snatched up gauze again, wishing he had someone here to at least help.

Then he felt something hard touch his forceps. He felt the dull scrape of metal on metal and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Dean, I almost got it, hold on."

But whatever he did next made Dean scream, one of his hands releasing the cot to grab Cas' wrist in a crushing grip. The ex-angel winced, but tried not to hurt Dean further. He simply took his free hand and wrapped it around Dean's wrist.

"Dean, calm down, I need you to relax," he pleaded. "It will be easier if you relax."

Dean's eyes met his, dull with pain, terrified, and frantic, but Cas simply settled a hand on the center of his chest, pressing lightly. He could feel Dean's frantic, yet thready heartbeat under his palm and knew he had to calm his friend down.

"Dean, listen," he said in a low voice. "Just breathe. You'll be okay. It's almost over. _Breathe."_

Dean kept his gaze for a few more seconds before he took several deep breaths through his nose, eyes sliding shut and head falling back. He let go of Cas' wrist and the ex-angel felt his whole body go just a little bit lax, his heartbeat calm just a little.

Cas kept his one hand on Dean's chest, rubbing slightly to soothe him before he moved it to grip the hunter's shoulder instead. Once he was satisfied that Dean was relaxed, he angled his forceps enough to grab the bullet and then pulled it carefully out of Dean's abdomen.

Dean keened as it was pulled free, his body jerking as Cas finally pulled the bullet from him and dropped it and the forceps on the ground by the cot.

"There, see, it's out," he said, more relieved than Dean was.

The hunter let the belt fall from his mouth, panting for breath as Cas wadded up some gauze and pressed it tightly against the wound, which was bleeding freely again. He carefully got off Dean, and crouched to look for a suture kit.

Dean looked terrible. He was pale and covered in sweat, his skin clammy. Freckles stood out like black pinpoints on his face, accentuating the lines of agony with almost painful boyishness. Cas swallowed hard. Even though he had gotten the bullet out, he knew that bloodloss was still a major problem. He didn't even know if there was anything badly damaged inside. At least he was pretty sure that the bullet hadn't hit anything vital.

"Okay, I'm going to sew you up now," he murmured to Dean.

The hunter gave a soft moan, eyes slitting open just slightly before closing again.

At least Castiel was pretty familiar with sutures. He put several into the wound as quickly as possible, then grabbed the flask of liquor Dean had said was in the bag and soaked some more gauze with it. He swiftly cleaned the wound and surrounding area. Dean tensed and moaned as the alcohol burned, but his eyes only fluttered, not quite conscious anymore.

Cas swiftly finished taping gauze over the wound and tugged Dean's bloodsoaked shirt down again. As an afterthought, he pulled his own jacket off and folded it into a neat square before sliding it under Dean's head to make him a little more comfortable on the ancient cot.

It was then that Cas realized his hands were still soaked in blood. He swallowed hard. They began to shake, and then he felt his stomach lurch and it was all he could do to get out of the cabin before he vomited.

He collapsed on his hands and knees outside the door, emptying his stomach. The visceral reaction shocked him. He had never been so affected by blood before, even when it had belonged to the Winchesters.

Of course, all the other times—aside from during the Apocalypse—he could simply heal them with his grace. Now…now he would be forced to hurt them worse in order to make them better.

Shock was another thing that was horrible about being human. Just another thing he would have to learn to deal with.

He spit and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, then scrubbed his bloody hands in the dirt, doing his best to get Dean's blood off of them, but it was sticky and dried in places, and he just couldn't.

Giving up finally, he simply buried the puddle of vomit, and then with worry gnawing at his already queasy stomach, he backtracked along the path he and Dean had taken, doing his best to cover their tracks, and the blood trail. Even as he was doing it, though, he realized it was pretty much pointless. A werewolf would be able to smell Dean's blood a mile away from the cabin. It wouldn't have to follow a blood trail. He supposed the best thing he could do was prepare for an ambush.

He tried calling Sam again on his walk back to the cabin, but he still wasn't getting a signal. He really hoped the younger Winchester and the Ranger were all right, because he and Dean were in no position to go to their aid right now.

When Castiel slipped back into the cabin, he was greeted by the cocking of a gun, and spun around to see Dean leveling his pistol at the door, his hand trembling but a look of determination on his face. He allowed his arm to fall though when he saw it was Cas, the gun coming to rest by his side instead.

"Anything?" Dean asked.

Cas shook his head and went to crouch beside the cot again, starting to clean up the first aid things before he found a water bottle in the bag and cracked it open.

"Here, you should drink," he told the wounded hunter.

Dean's eyes lowered tiredly, but he allowed Cas to raise his head slightly and press the bottle against his lips. Dean drank a little, but Cas made sure he didn't overdo it. The last thing he needed was to throw up.

Dean lay back, looking thoroughly exhausted. Castiel was worried about how much blood he had lost. He wondered when and how they were going to get out of here and back to the Impala at the trailhead. It was at least five miles away and there was no way Dean was going to be able to walk that far without injuring himself further. Maybe if he had to, Cas could construct a litter for him but even then, it would be nearly impossible to drag him through the forest _and_ be able to take on any werewolves that came along.

"Hey, Cas."

The ex-angel startled slightly at Dean's voice. He had thought the hunter was unconscious again but his green eyes were slits under his eyelashes, looking up at Castiel.

"What is it, Dean?" he asked anxiously.

Dean coughed slightly and winced, a hand coming up to press against his stomach. "You should go find Sam."

Cas narrowed his eyes and shook his head firmly. "Dean, no, I'm not going to leave you here like this."

"I've got my gun and a knife," Dean protested weakly. "Face it, I'm not going far. And you're gonna need help—the pack is probably gonna end up here…"

"Exactly why I shouldn't leave you!" Castiel said angrily. "Dean, I didn't just dig that bullet out of you for you to get clawed up by a pack of werewolves."

Dean sighed. "Fine, then I'll come with you to find Sam." He started to push himself up, before he let out a strangled cry and almost pitched off the side of the cot.

Cas caught him, and pushed him firmly onto his back again as Dean breathed through the pain, three shades paler than he had been if that were even possible.

"Dean. No," Cas said. "I'm worried about Sam too, but he can take care of himself. He's smart and resourceful, and he'll find us here. The best we can do is try to barricade ourselves in so that if the wolves do show up, we'll be ready."

Dean breathed out a long sigh, before giving a slight nod. "O-okay."

Castiel sighed too, and, pretty sure Dean was going to stay where he was for now, he began to search around the cabin for anything that he could use to barricade the doors and windows. It wouldn't hold a pack of werewolves off for long, he knew, but it was better than nothing, and might buy them a little time at least.

Pretty soon he had stacked up all the furniture he had been able to find against the door, jamming it tight and hoping it would hold at least for a while, then set about tearing up some of the broken floorboards to cover the windows, using a hammer and nails he had found in the cabinet under the small kitchen sink.

A hitched breath from Dean had him turning around though, seeing the hunter's face creased in pain as he clutched at his stomach, drawing his knees up slightly to ease the pull. Castiel dropped his hammer and went to crouch next to his friend, a hand on his shoulder.

"Dean, how are you doing?" he asked softly, worriedly noting the hunter's quick, shallow breaths.

"'M great," Dean mumbled. "Just…go back to closing the place up."

Cas pressed his lips together, not liking what he was seeing. He pressed his palm to Dean's pale forehead and found that he was sweating and clammy. He knew this wasn't a good thing.

"Just—just hold on, Dean," he said, trying to sound encouraging. "I'll get you out of here."

But at that moment, he heard a howl in the distance. He looked quickly over to the half shuttered window, fear clutching his chest. Dean closed his eyes.

"Well, I guess this is it," the hunter said.

Castiel shook his head and pulled his own gun out of the waistband of his jeans. "No. Not like this. We'll get through it."

"There's a pack of them, and I'm gut shot," Dean hissed.

Cas glared down at him. "You're also Dean Winchester. And if I've learned anything about you and your brother from the long time I've known you, it's that you do not go down without one hell of a fight."

Dean's mouth quirked up slightly and a little light returned to his eyes. "Damn straight. But I'm not gonna lay here and take it."

Cas nodded and helped prop Dean into a sitting position against the wall. His pistol loaded and resting in his lap, and his silver knife ready by his side. Dean drew back the slide and shucked a round into the barrel of his Colt.

"Let 'em come," he gritted out.

It wasn't long before they did.

Castiel and Dean waited there, listening to the wolves approach, surrounding the cabin. They tried the door first, but Cas had at least barricaded that successfully.

But it wasn't long before they found the not-so-well guarded window and slammed something into it, snapping one of the old boards in half.

Castiel wasted no time in bringing his gun up and tapping out a couple rounds. He heard a pained yelp from outside, telling him he had hit something, but it did little good because more werewolves were busting inside the cabin, and pretty soon one's head broached the window, clawed hands pulling itself in.

Cas and Dean both got off several more rounds, but only scored a shoulder shot as the werewolf tumbled inside and surged toward them.

Castiel pulled out his angel blade, meeting the werewolf head on and surprising it by stabbing straight through its chest.

Unfortunately, that distraction allowed two more wolves to slide through, and another soon after, growling and charging the ex-angel and the wounded hunter in anticipation.

Dean shot at one, hitting its leg, but it just growled and surged forward, grabbing the hunter's wrist and twisting so that Dean cried out and dropped his gun.

"We're going to finish you, hunter!" the werewolf said in a gravely voice.

"Not today, asshat," Dean grunted and slammed his silver knife up into the beast's heart.

Castiel was meanwhile occupied with the other two wolves. He'd shot one in the side, but it didn't seem to be doing anything much. He caught sight of Dean out of the corner of his eye, staggering from the cot and reaching for his dropped gun. One of the werewolves Cas was fighting also noticed and snarled, whipping toward the hunter and grabbing the back of his coat, flinging him across the room to crash into a pile of firewood. Dean gave a strangled cry.

"Dean!" Cas shouted, frantic that the hunter had been injured worse, but the werewolf he was fighting took that distraction as an incentive to charge him. A fist slammed into the side of Castiel's head. He saw stars and was driven to the floor a second later as the wolf kicked his legs out from under him. Cas hit the ground hard, his elbow striking the ground and causing his arm to go completely numb, and his gun to skitter across the floor. He realized a second too late that he had also lost his grip of his angel blade and the wolf only kicked it away further as he straddled Castiel's waist, forcing him to the floor.

"You killed our alpha, now you'll feed the pack," he snarled. "The hunters have become the prey—as it should be."

Cas cried out as the wolf ripped open the collar of his shirt and dug his claws into Cas' chest, right above his heart. He had a momentary thought for Dean. If his friend wasn't already dead, then he would be soon. Castiel had failed him again.

But just then, two gunshots rang out, and a bullet exploded from the head of the werewolf tearing into Cas before the creature toppled sideways.

Castiel hurriedly shoved the dead weight off of him and looked over to see Dean propped on one elbow, Castiel's gun held in a shaky hand. The other wolf that had been in the room was also dead, stretched out next to the hunter with a silver knife sticking in its chest.

"Thanks," Cas gasped out, wincing as he clapped a hand to the puncture wounds in his chest.

Dean gave a weary grin. "No problem." But his face paled considerably, and he dropped the gun, pressing his hand to his stomach as he slumped heavily back to the ground. "Son of a bitch."

"Dean," Cas called, and crawled over to his friend, gripping his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Dean hissed and groaned. "Think—think those bastards messed me up worse. I don't feel right."

Castiel forced down the panic that was rising in his throat and swallowed hard as he gently uncovered the wound under Dean's hand and saw fresh blood flowing past the gauze. He felt sick.

"You'll be okay. I'll get you out of here. I'll try to call Sam again…" He was interrupted by the sound of a vehicle approaching and squeezed Dean's shoulder before he grabbed his gun and looked cautiously out the window.

Relief washed over him as he saw a ranger's truck and Sam and the ranger they had been working with on the case rushing toward the cabin.

"Dean! Cas!" Sam called.

Cas hurriedly started to shove the barricade away from the door and flung it open as Sam got there. Relief washed over the younger Winchester's face.

"Thank God," he said. "We tracked the werewolves here, I thought they were after you."

"They were, we took care of them," Cas said quickly. "But Dean's been badly injured, we need to get him to a hospital now."

Sam's eyes widened and he hurried inside to kneel next to his brother.

"Dean? Hey, just hold on, okay? We'll get you out of here."

Dean could only moan, eyes fluttering as they tried to open for his brother. Sam shot Cas a worried look as Ranger Stevens came in.

"Let's get him into the truck, it's fifteen miles into town."

Castiel felt nausea roiling in his stomach, hoping Dean would last that long. Sam and the Ranger lifted Dean between them, and carried him out as Cas gathered their weapons and bag before hurrying to the truck. Sam was in the back with Dean propped against him so Cas climbed into the passenger seat as Ranger Stevens started the truck and tore down the dirt road.

On the way into town, Cas explained what had happened, while throwing worried glances back toward Dean who was completely unconscious now, and pale as death. Sam had one hand pressed firmly to the bullet wound, trying to keep Dean's blood inside of him, but he'd already lost too much, and Cas suspected that after the fight, he was bleeding inside too. On top of that, shock had set in completely, and they didn't have a lot of time.

It seemed like an eternity for them to get to the hospital, but once they did, everything erupted. Ranger Stevens ran into the ER and soon a bunch of hospital personnel converged on the truck, getting Dean onto a gurney and wheeling him inside.

"I'm going to park and call try to run interference," Ranger Stevens said with a humorless chuckle. "I guess I'll have to come up with a good story."

"Serial killers or cults usually work," Sam offered.

The Ranger shook his head and climbed back into the truck. Soon Sam and Cas were left standing at the entrance to the ER, covered in Dean's blood and equally worried.

Finally, Sam turned to Cas. "You're hurt too. You should get those wounds looked at."

"It's not like I can explain what happened," Cas said wryly. "It's not that bad, I can take care of it later." He zipped up his coat to hide the blood and torn shirt as he and Sam moved into the ER waiting room.

Sam frowned. "Once we find out what's going on with Dean, I'll help you get cleaned up."

Cas glanced at the younger Winchester, still feeling ill. "Sam, I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Sam looked at him incredulously. "Why's that?"

Castiel clenched his hands. "Because I can't heal you and Dean anymore, and I probably did more harm than good getting the bullet out of him."

Sam gripped his shoulder firmly, shaking his head. "Cas, don't think like that. Without you, Dean would probably be dead. It was the werewolves who hurt him. This isn't on you!"

"But I'm not capable of half the things I once was," Cas moaned. "And if you and Dean keep getting hurt because of me, because I don't have my powers—"

"Hey," Sam said firmly. "Cas, hunting isn't about that anyway. Dean and I have done okay without powers over the years. And yeah, sometimes crap happens, sometimes people get hurt, but you can't always avoid that, and it's definitely _not on you._ Got it?"

Cas sighed deeply, slumping, finally feeling the full extent of the day's activities as exhaustion pulled at him. Sam settled a hand on his back.

"Come on, why don't you go get cleaned up? I'll grab some coffee."

Cas did feel better once he had gone to the bathroom and washed Dean's blood off of himself. He taped some gauze over the wound on his chest, realizing it wasn't that bad after all and changed into a clean shirt he'd had in his bag.

By the time he'd finished, he found Sam talking to a doctor out in the waiting room and went over to listen anxiously.

"He's suffering from some severe abdominal bleeding, and blood loss, but we're prepping him for surgery now, and there's no reason he shouldn't pull through without trouble once we repair the internal damage and get some blood into him."

"Thanks, doc," Sam murmured.

"It was lucky you removed the bullet, though," she continued. "I don't usually like to suggest that, but in this case, I think it kept the damage to a minimum."

Sam turned to Cas with a small smile, clapping a hand on his shoulder. Cas felt some small amount of relief to hear that.

"I'll keep you updated," the doctor told them. "But don't expect to hear from me for a couple hours. I'll let you know once your brother is out of surgery though."

"Okay, thanks," Sam said before he turned back to Cas. "See, Cas? I told you you did the right thing."

It was an eternity waiting in the uncomfortable hospital chairs, drinking bad hospital coffee, and watching the other people come and go, but eventually the doctor who had spoken to them earlier came back out, and gave them a small smile as they stood up anxiously.

"Your brother is out of surgery and is doing well. We're moving him to a room now and setting him up with a final transfusion. I can take you there if you want to sit with him. He's still going to be a bit groggy."

"Thanks, doc, yeah, we would love to go see him," Sam said, relief obvious in his voice.

Castiel finally felt his stomach start to unclench, his anxiety easing slightly.

When they got to the room the doctor showed them to, Dean still looked pretty bad, but he seemed to be sleeping peacefully and without a lot of pain—of course that was probably the high grade drugs that were currently in his system.

"The anesthesia should be wearing off in a few hours," the doctor told them, checking Dean's vitals on the screen. "A nurse will be in periodically to check on him."

"Thanks," Sam said as the doctor left. He and Castiel pulled a couple chairs over, sitting on either side of Dean's bed and waiting for him to wake up.

It seemed an eternity, but eventually Dean began to stir, and his eyes fluttered open as he moaned quietly.

Sam and Cas instantly leaned forward to peer at their injured brother as his eyes opened.

"Dean, hey," Sam called softly, settling a hand over Dean's forearm. "Just take your time, we're not going anywhere."

"Ugh, S'mmy?" Dean slurred, blinking to clear his vision and trying to take in his surroundings. "Cas?"

Castiel touched his shoulder gently to show Dean he was there. "I'm here too. How do you feel?"

Dean groaned and allowed his eyes to slide shut again. "Like I got run over by the heard of elephants."

Sam chuckled, relief obvious on his face. "I bet you do. You got pretty messed up. But the doc said that it would have been worse if Cas hadn't gotten the bullet out." He glanced purposefully toward the ex-angel who shifted slightly, still uncertain that he had done what was best.

Dean's eyes opened again and found Cas, a small smile tugging up one side of his mouth. "Well, thanks for what you did back there, Cas. I guess I'd be dead without you."

Castiel felt a pang in his chest at that thought, but covered it with a smile instead. "I don't know about that. Winchesters are hard to kill."

"You okay?" Dean asked then, flicking his gaze back to Sam. "Both of you?"

Sam huffed in a longsuffering manner. "Yes, Dean, we're fine."

"Good," Dean whispered, closing his eyes again. "Can I have some of that morphine now?"

Sam smiled and reached over to press the button on the machine. "Okay, dude, just rest then. We'll bust you out of here as soon as we're sure you're stable."

"Thanks," Dean said, his words already slurring again from the drug. "But when we get home, I want pie…I think I deserve it."

Sam and Cas shared an amused look. "Of course you do, Dean," Cas told him. "Now rest."

Dean did, falling asleep almost instantly.

Castiel relaxed, seeing that his friend was going to be all right now. He supposed that everything could have gone a lot worse. Even though he still had a lot to learn about the hunting life, he was glad he had his two surrogate brothers to help teach him.


End file.
